Sickness of Self.

I do not know what is wrong with me. My stomach feels as if it is infested with maggots. I have no energy to do anything. I do not eat. I do not drink. I lay in my bed for days immobile - incapacitated - wracked in full depression and a body that has given up.

Yesterday I wretched myself out of bed and decided to take a walk. The afternoon was quite nice; bright blue sky, a warm wind blue - the beginning of spring.

I just felt so funky. At one point I stopped to have coffee and a smoke - and looking at the brass hinges on the cafes window shutters, some of them broken, I was hit by a feeling of universal desolation and loss. I am left with the impact of unbridgeable distances, the defeat and weariness of a long, painful journey made for nothing, wrong turns, the track lost, a bus waiting in the rain...

A wave of anxiety over took me - I stumbled home lightheaded, shortness of breath, hands tingling, sharp pain in the chest - I spent the evening tossing in my bed in pain. A couple of days ago a friend asked me what I want out of my life. I gave my answer and it hasn't changed.

I want to die.